


Team Spirit

by hgdoghouse



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-12
Updated: 2012-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-29 10:04:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hgdoghouse/pseuds/hgdoghouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doyle's view of the early days of his partnership with Bodie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Team Spirit

**Author's Note:**

> Part 3 of the unfinished Stepping Stones series

Stepping Stone Series - 2

 

The next time Cowley gives me a benign smile I'll know what's behind it and prepare myself accordingly.

I suppose the pep-talk beforehand should have warned us but he timed the announcement to perfection and caught us off-guard. I dunno which of us was the more surprised out of Bodie and me, getting approval from Cowley for a job well done. Of course, having lulled us into a sense of false security he then packed us off to the wilds of Scotland for a week. Next thing I know we're in the back of Macklin's mini van, Molly's opinion of me still echoing down my ear.

The thing that really got up my nose was the fact that Bodie must have had some idea of what was ahead of us and he didn't think to warn me. It was all right for him, ex-bloody-para in his nice warm parka. I've never been so cold or so wet and so fucking exhausted in my life.

And that was only the first day.

There was a half hour on the third day when I nearly gave up. I was about to announce as much when Bodie turned around, smirking, despite the fact he was almost as muddy as I was.

It's taken me this long to realise his timing had been deliberate. He's nowhere near as stupid as he likes to make out, is Bodie. Nor as hard. Hard enough mind.

But that course.

Two doses of Macklin in four months. I sometimes wonder what Cowley's got against us. But that was the worst time. We never stopped.

I started to dream about what I was going to do to our Brian the first night. The only trouble was, it wouldn't have left me the energy to deal with his sidekick, Foster. Sadistic bastards. Typical army types.

Just up Bodie's street.

So there it was, the three of them versus me in acres of the most depressing countryside I've ever seen. Macklin and Foster snug in survival gear and Bodie and me in what we stood up in. I was a permanent shade of lavender.

Never go on an assault course dressed in jeans, a tee shirt and trainers. Scrub that. Just make sure you never go on an assault course. By the second night I would've sold my soul - or anything else that was marketable - for some thermal underwear. As for dry socks...

I think Macklin arranged the weather on purpose.

I was waiting for death's cold hand by the third morning. While I sweated cobs during that climb Macklin forced us on, it didn't warm me up at all.

Thank christ Bodie knew what he was doing. Flash bugger with his human fly act. Trouble was, being Bodie he couldn't resist telling me how fucking brilliant he was. I'm not sure what happened next. Everyone but me agrees it was my fault. Maybe it was. I still maintain we can't all be boy scouts.

Long and short of it was that one moment I'm clinging on to the tartan equivalent of the Matterhorn with my fingernails, the next moment I'm falling earthwards. Lucky it was Bodie up above so I only fell fifteen feet. It just felt like a mile. I've often wondered if it's only a coincidence that I noticed all these grey hairs when we got back to civilization.

I hung on there a while, cursing and feeling no end stupid before I got it together. When I eventually arrived up on Bodie's ledge I've got to admit that the fact I was shaking wasn't wholly due to my near collision with the pearly gates. Bodie didn't say a word but the look in his eyes kept me quiet for a while.

With him telling me in words of one syllable exactly what to do we returned to solid ground and Macklin, who made up for everything Bodie hadn't said.

Bodie didn't say much for the rest of the day, and once I'd been frozen out for the fourth time I left him to it. I remember thinking it was odd at the time though - Bodie isn't given to sulking. I just put it down to the fact that the climb had taken some of the zip out of him; I didn't find out why until the following morning.

The fourth day didn't start too well because I'd committed the cardinal sin of letting the fire go out. Then, before Macklin drove out to us from his nice warm billet, we 'met' this commando team.

Even Bodie's self-confidence wavered then. They spread us all over the heather and went on their way with a few merry quips; funnily enough, those rolled straight off me. After four days with Macklin I was immune (to say we don't get on is the best way of putting it) so it was Bodie they got going.

I could have told them that was a mistake.

Up until then Bodie had been third on my hit list. It was catching a glimpse of his expression when he didn't know I was watching him that made me realise he had been suffering as much as I had - but quietly. While that didn't stop me complaining, I did stop bitching at him. I'd seen the state of his hands by that time. You can't mistake rope burns.

The blisters on my feet and the state of his hands didn't stop us uniting to decide we should go on a little sortie of our own. Macklin didn't seem too surprised, so I suppose we were reacting according to schedule. I don't mind being manipulated, but I'm buggered if I enjoy seeing how it's done. It just made us the more determined to do it our way. It was the first thing Bodie and I agreed on in the four months we'd been teamed.

It didn't take us long to discover the commandos were spending the night camped out in the local equivalent of the Hilton - what was left of a crofter's cottage. I enjoyed myself that afternoon, enjoyed myself a lot. Bodie and I did okay against them.

Bugger modesty, we were bloody magic together.

Thing about all these war game exercises is that you're supposed to operate within the rules. Sod that. There are no rules on the streets and there are precious few games anywhere Cowley sends us.

I wonder if that was the argument Cowley used when their CO complained about our tactics? If I remember I'll get Bodie to ask him, he seems to get on better with the old man than me.

Beauty of it all was that Bodie knows how the army thinks, especially on bloody silly exercises like that one. He can fight very dirty can Bodie; he even taught me a few things. So we got our plan of campaign together.

We slept dry that night, had a hot meal, too.

I'd taken Bodie off my hit list by then. Found some stuff in their medical kit for his hands, though he took some persuading before he let me near them. I'd got used to him glaring at me by then.

But I saw to them. It wasn't before time. Think of raw meat, especially his right hand.

The daft sod for not telling me. Keeping quiet in front of Macklin I could understand, but him and me... Bloody hell, we were supposed to be partners.

The worst of it was knowing it was my fault for not having listened to the instructions before we set off on that climb: bloody juvenile, I was.

So naturally I tore him off a strip about it.

He sat there, letting me get it all off my chest, before he gave this beam of approval.

"That's better. Rather have you moaning than broody. It happened, forget it." He drew in a breath as the antiseptic went on. "Christ, Doyle. Listen, if it'll make you feel any better I'll tell you about the acne I had as a kid."

"I've nearly finished. The paracetamol you're going to take will help. I'll take another look at them tomorrow morning. Don't you ever hold out on me again, you hear?"

He gave me this odd look, flexed his fingers, as if surprised to find them still there, and smiled. Has the birds falling down in the aisles does that smile.

"I promise, all right? Now can we drop the subject?"

It was one of the few times I believed him. He can tell such a good story he should have taken up embroidery for a living.

"All right," I said, not going overboard. Give Bodie an inch and you'll find yourself living in his pocket. "Here, get this down inside you."

That drop of brandy I'd found did him more good than any painkillers, the only trouble was there wasn't enough to make it worth splitting it. I suppose the army doesn't like to think of their lot showing up drunk.

"I can't imagine you with acne," I added without thinking.

"You don't want to, mate. Here, don't inhale, or there'll be nothing left to swallow."

I've never tasted anything quite as good as that sip of brandy.

Bodie leant back, legs sprawled out in front of him, a reminiscent look on his face. "It set in three days after I got my first proper girlfriend - y'know, the kind you spend money on. Bloody disaster it was. I'd already lavished a quid on her you see, and never got more than a peck on the cheek and a ping of her suspenders."

Couldn't imagine Bodie going through the awkward aggravation of all that, but it led us into swopping stories of teenage conquests. By the time we decided to turn in for the night I'd got to the point where I'd mellowed enough to decide he should have first crack at Macklin. Of course, the only way we stood a chance was to go for the bastard together. We'd agreed on that much by the time we decided to pool our resources and share one sleeping bag with the other one on top of us - bloody Cowley for being too tight-fisted to give us decent ones. I was still cold that night, but only down one side.

I hope I smelt better than Bodie did. I doubt it, but it was the first decent night's sleep I had up there, despite the fact Bodie had given me plenty to think about. Trouble was, I'd taken his macho hotshot image for gospel and let it get up my nose to the point where I couldn't see beyond it. I don't usually make snap judgements about people like that, but I'd taken an instant dislike to the smooth-faced bugger and Bodie did precious little to change my mind. I never have had any time for flashy dressers.

By the time we got home neither of us would have won any fashion awards.

While I can't see me ever volunteering to go back to Scotland the trip wasn't a complete waste of time. Things have been easier between Bodie and me since then. Not perfect, but I'm working on him. And I've stopped taking him at face value. We don't have to keep trying to score points off each other; not more than once a day anyway. That's no way to work, day in, day out. In fact, I could've done a lot worse than to get lumbered with Bodie.

Cowley, the old bastard, had been right all along. We do make a good team - when he eventually gave us the chance to prove it. You wouldn't believe the crap he kept us on for the first few weeks; the only thing that kept me going was the look on Bodie's face.

Ironically, the first proper callout was to a siege situation - a real one this time.

When it was all over it dawned on me that Bodie is almost as good as he says he is. No patience of course, and he's inclined to want to rush in mob-handed, but he's not trigger happy, even if he doesn't lose much sleep over the well-being of Joe Public. But then he claims I do that for both of us, so maybe it balances out.

I still don't know how we've lasted this long together though. I nearly jacked it in that first week. I don't suppose Bodie knows to this day how close he came to feeling my boot clear up to his appendix. He was always testing me, needling, and so bloody smooth with it. There was never any doubt about what he thought of me, I could tell he knew I'd left my white stick at home.

But he started toning down some of his cracks after that time I lost my rag with Macklin. About the only bonus of that little episode.

I've always had a short fuse and I've spent a lifetime trying to keep it under control. It took Macklin just over an hour to get to me. If he hadn't been so good I would have killed him. That was what he was aiming for, of course. It's just that he got more than he bargained for. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again. That's not why I joined this mob.

Still, at least it stopped Bodie from looking at me as a liability he'd been lumbered with. You can't afford to let him get the upper hand or he'll walk all over you. Brash, cocky, self-opinionated; he fancies himself no end. But considering how much he rabbits on, I don't know that much about his past - except that he conquered Africa single-handed.

Of course, Bodie being Bodie, it didn't take him long to give me the once-over. As far as I can make out he would fuck anything on legs - possibly just the one leg for all I know. But I wasn't bothered by him looking. Looking's free. If he ever makes the mistake of trying it on I'll take his hand off - at the shoulder.

If I ever get the urge to experiment with some hitherto unconsidered facet of my own sexuality (I wonder about Kate Ross, you know, putting ideas into your head) I'll make bloody sure I pick someone easier than Bodie to do my test drive on.

Mind, he's a good looking bugger.

Well, now. Freudian slip?

Nah. However many ways Bodie's swung in the past, he's straight now. Well there's no point getting chucked out of CI5 over a quick screw, is there?

But I sometimes wonder if Bodie realises what he's got going for him; one thing in his favour is his total lack of vanity, about his looks anyway. If you want to disconcert him a tall, dark and beautiful crack will do it every time. I wonder what the birds make of him. He has no trouble pulling them, just about giving them the elbow. I suppose that means he's got more finesse than I give him credit for. A bloke has to work hard at keeping a bird happy nowadays.

Another thing in Bodie's favour is that no matter how much he gets up my nose he isn't boring to be around. I'm still not sure what to make of him, but I'll get there, despite him.

Discovered he's got this softer side, same as anyone else and he's not as good at hiding it as he thinks. There again, you can't but help get to know something about someone when you spend the amount of time we do together.

One of the things which keeps us going is probably his sense of humour. It's on the black side, but that's all right, so's mine. Sometimes you have to laugh or you'd put your fist through the wall. And Bodie can crack me up, diffuse the tension with a one liner faster than anyone I've ever met.

I know I have this tendency to brood over things a bit and I can't be the easiest person in the world to work with. Well, I know I'm not. I should do, Bodie's pointed out some of the difficulties often enough. To hear him you'd think he liked early mornings. Still, he usually grins when he says it now.

At least you know where you are with him. If he's got a bone to pick with you he comes right out with it and clears the air. He doesn't hold a grudge either. In fact he's bloody tolerant, all things considered, even when I'm not deliberately out to put him to the test.

Take a couple of weeks ago.

I'm not that liberal minded when it comes to suppliers, especially not when we're _that_ close to nailing him when some local bobby out to make a name for himself steps in and nabs him for speeding before he's got to the pickup.

Three weeks we'd put into the case.

So I let rip. Took it all out on Bodie. I didn't set out to, the trouble was he was the only one with me. Besides, I find myself saying things to him I've never thought to tell anyone else. Disconcerting that. To make matters worse, I dunno why I do it. Because he's got that sort of a face, I suppose. And he listens.

Anyway, there I was, tearing into him and he just stood there, hands at his sides and took it. So I came out with a couple of cracks about mercs I didn't mean.

It wasn't until I saw his face tighten and go blank that I realised I'd hurt him. It's weird, when anything gets to Bodie he just closes himself off - no expression, no nothing.

So I apologised, fast.

I hate admitting I'm wrong but I didn't have any choice. Although I hadn't meant anything by it - just words, letting off steam - something I'd said had struck a nerve. I'm good at that; too good. I know I've done it to him before and I probably will again; it's partly his fault for letting me get away with it.

It was a moment before he looked up. He stared at me for so long I began to wonder what was coming next. It's lucky I hadn't been expecting anything profound. He gave one of those sudden smiles of his and dragged me off to the squash court - to get rid of all that aggression, he said.

So how come he beat me legless, and then made me buy the first round? But I did it, so maybe I'm the one that's getting soft in the head.

Bodie's not bad company either, not when you consider how much of my life I'm spending with him already. But I can't see either of us wanting to make a habit of it like some of the others do.

Christ, what a time to start me memoirs. How long's that R/T been going?

"Yeah. Right. On my way."

Not before time. Cowley should have sent me in with Bodie, instead of Anson. That's what we're teamed for.

It sounds like the Third World War's about to start.

Stop daydreaming, dummy, you nearly got a permanent parting then. There's plenty of cover, use it. Christ, I'm even starting to sound like Bodie.

Movement.

No. 's only McCabe. So that's Lucas on my right. All where we're supposed to be. Right, now the cavalry's arrived, where the hell are Bodie and Anson?

Yeah, got 'em.

It'd be embarrassing if the first person I shoot is my partner.

Rifle.

That's it, my son, you keep them pinned down while we get close. Maybe I'll go back to the range on my next day off, get some practice in. Anson's not much better than me with that.

Shit. I hate this part. I never have liked wide open spaces, especially not when I'm in a red tee shirt. Still, it won't show the stains.

There, not so bad.

"Go!"

That's McCabe in: Lucas; Anson; Bodie.

Up the stairs then.

"Down!"

oOo

"...after number one."

If he tells me that one more time. It's a load of crap he's spouting anyway. He's guarded my back from the beginning, and without making a big deal about it. The only thing you catch Bodie making a song and dance about are the things that don't matter.

"Look, mate, Anson is quite capable of taking them out to the van, so you can hear me out. Save it, Bodie. If you hadn't flattened me I'd be dead. So thanks." At least I've stopped shaking now. How come John Wayne never got the shakes?

Yeah, I knew it. Only Bodie can make me end up feeling guilty for thanking him.

"Really? Simple, huh. you don't snow me, sunshine - not when you risked a bullet for me."

Here we go.

"Shove it, Doyle. Come on, dust yourself down and let's go and get the bloody interrogations over with."

He's getting ratty now, a sure sign he's embarrassed. What would you do with him?

"Look, I'm trying to - "

"I've had an idea," he interrupts. "About what we can do when we've finished at HQ..."

I've never met anyone so unsubtle about changing the subject either.

"...for the evening?"

He's got that glint in his eye that says if I don't drop the subject he'll be dropping me - from a great height.

Such a hard man.

Hold up, I recognise that tone of voice.

"Great idea, but who's going to be paying for this little excursion, Bodie?"

"It's the least you can do in the circumstances, mate."

Oh. Really? Look at those innocent blue eyes.

"OK, why not?" That shook him. You'll learn, sunshine. You'll learn. Maybe I'll take him to that Italian place Mary found, it's about time he was weaned off junk food. "C'mon then, trouble. Anson can handle the interrogations and we can do the reports tomorrow. I'm hungry. I'll change at your place."

His eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Careful, you're in danger of sounding too enthusiastic. What don't you want me to see then? I've got a burst pipe, which means no hot water." I've never been inside his place. Stupid, I dunno why. Maybe because he hasn't asked me.

Why do I give him openings like that?

"Come on, Bodie. Partners should share and share alike. That includes your hot water."

"You'll be wanting the shirt off my back next," he said, sounding so gloomy I knew it was all right.

"Only if your taste improves. Though that black silk one you got last week will do nicely."

I sometimes wonder if Bodie knows his own strength.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Written 1984


End file.
